


Fragility

by Bleed_Peroxide



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleed_Peroxide/pseuds/Bleed_Peroxide
Summary: The idea was almost laughable, but part of him wondered if those slender fingers could hold together what felt like a million loose pieces, held together like a threadbare quilt.He wanted to shatter so that he might relearn the way in which the pieces fit together. He wanted to shatter the vessel that Lahabrea had tainted. He wanted to be handled like glass, though he knew not if he wished for the delicacy one afforded fragile things... or to entrust himself to someone who knew just where he needed to be shattered.“I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Thancred answered, wincing at the tremor in his voice. “I feel like I’m about to break, and yet-”“-you’re scared of how badly you wish to.”A fill for the #Kinktober 2019 prompts - "Spanking". Though it's more exploratory at this point,pleaseheed the tags.





	Fragility

After the fall of Gaius van Baelsar at the Praetorium, it felt like the entirety of Eorzea had demands that required the Scions’ immediate attention. It didn’t matter that Thancred had only just regained control of his own body once again, or that their own Warrior of Light was still recovering from the toll it had taken on his body. At the end of the day, the Scions had an obligation to the people of Eorzea - personal needs or wishes be damned. 

“Tis the nature of such things,” Urianger had remarked with a rare smile, adjusting the lenses on his goggles as he continued tracing his fingertips along a gnarled tree for Twelve knew what. Thancred could feel the exhaustion of too little sleep and too much walking wearing on his bones - he did not have the patience to listen to the Elezen prattle on in that archaic manner of his. 

He needed something that went _beyond_ rest. In his mind, Thancred likened it to a desperate puppet willingly clipping its own strings, content to let the body fall where it may. Let someone else handle it, let someone else do all the work of thinking. It reeked of something familiar, a surrender he dared to let himself think over, and yet…

_ But not like… him. Not without asking. Not without… _

“Thancred? Are you alright?” 

Glancing up, Thancred was startled to find that his feet had carried him to one of many inns tucked away in Mor Dhona. Stewing in his own thoughts, his body had been all but drawn to the room that a certain Seeker had chosen to occupy. 

G’raha Tia ... the cheeky Allag scholar that the Warrior of Light had introduced him to. Or rather…. _reintroduced_ him to. Thancred had only the barest understanding of the peculiar project they had embroiled themselves in - something regarding a jewel tower, or some such thing - but Thancred recognized G’raha from their days in the Circle.

In the aftermath of the Black Wolf’s defeat, Thancred had found himself wandering into the Miqo’te’s room with increasing frequency. He had expected that G’raha might prove every bit as reticent as he had known him to be in their days in the Circle - a part of him had, at least at first, hoped that he might find him a neutral third party that would listen to his woes quietly. Instead, Thancred grew to know a man that preferred being called Raha, with a voice like music and wicked smile that made Thancred’s stomach flutter in strange, delicious ways. 

However, Thancred dared not examine the needy part of him that pleaded for something he could scarcely name. He only knew that he felt like a spring too tightly coiled, yet he was terrified of the aftermath if he were to permit himself to unravel as he desperately wished.

“You’re late, my friend,” G’raha remarked, noting Thancred’s slouched posture with a flicker of concern. “I believe I’ve asked this before, but please warn me if you will be returning late. Otherwise one is likely to come up with all manner of gruesome reasons as to what happened.”

_ What’s the worst that’ll happen? I get possessed again, and they finally finish things? _

It took Thancred a moment to pick up on the severe crease in G’raha’s brow to realize he’d said those words aloud. However, he was too exhausted to try to explain himself or to bother dragging himself into the bed. Instead, the Hyur settled for sitting on the rug next to G’raha’s chair, leaning against the wall and let his head fall back. 

It felt right, that he should sit on the hard floor, that the wall should press into the knots in his back. 

“Thancred, what ails you?” 

He heard a rustle of clothing, followed by a pair of hands cupping the sides of his face. Without thinking, Thancred leaned into that warmth like a lifeline, all but melting into the touch. Simple as it was, G’raha’s gentle handling brushed against something raw in his chest. 

The idea was almost laughable, but part of him wondered if those slender fingers could hold together what felt like a million loose pieces, held together like a threadbare quilt.

He _wanted_ to shatter so that he might relearn the way in which the pieces fit together. He wanted to shatter the vessel that Lahabrea had tainted. He wanted to be handled like glass, though he knew not if he wished for the delicacy one afforded fragile things... or to entrust himself to someone who knew just where he needed to be broken apart. 

“I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Thancred answered, wincing at the tremor in his voice. “I feel like I’m about to break, and yet-”

“-you’re scared of how badly you wish to.” 

Blinking with surprise, Thancred glanced up at G’raha, whose gaze met his not with disdain or mockery, but inexplicable fondness. G’raha only pressed a kiss to Thancred’s forehead, and Thancred let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in his chest. 

“You frighten me sometimes, Raha,” he continued with a shaky laugh. “I wonder if you don’t have the Echo after all, knowing things that you ought not to.” 

“Hmmm… I would consider it a simple understanding of man’s nature, including proclivities he might not be so inclined to make public.” 

“_Proclivities_.” 

“What would you call it, then?” G’raha responded, raising his brow as though daring Thancred to argue. 

“Fair point.”

“If I may be so bold… you seem to feel you ought to be punished. For possession, for someone’s death, I cannot begin to know all the reasons, though I might make a few guesses as to what they might be. You wish to be broken, though I might assume you do not wish an injury upon your person so much as your ego.”

Stunned, Thancred could only nod mutely. 

_ How does he…? _

“Your desires are not as unique nor perverse as you seem to believe, Thancred. And I would be willing to assist you with the matter, if you feel you can trust me with it.”

The words were spoken with the first hint of uncertainty - as though, after understanding that which Thancred barely understood himself, he worried that the Hyur might reject the proverbial hand reached out to him. 

“You will not tell…?”

“Would never dream of it. What I offer is... _erm_, a reprieve, I suppose. If I might be so bold as to offer, I would like you to feel safe enough to drop the pretense, and simply do what comes naturally. Trust that I will ensure you do not shatter without proper steps taken to be pieced back together.”

G’raha extended his hand, which initially left Thancred a bit nonplussed. It felt oddly formal, given the nature of what he proposed. But as he thought about it more, it underscored just how seriously G’raha was about the matter. In a way, it did feel like a peculiar transaction of sorts, in which Thancred exchanged his known persona for something else. Something raw and tender, exposing his belly for all to see. 

Taking G’raha’s hand, he offered a smile. 

“I trust you.”

G’raha gave his hand a squeeze, mirroring his smile before it took on a more thoughtful note. His eyes raked over Thancred’s body thoroughly, as though finding a faultline in which to aim his blows. Such careful examination of one’s weaknesses should have made Thancred feel guarded; instead, he found himself swallowing against a throat gone dry, unsure of what was to follow and absolutely exhilarated by the thought. The Miqo’te’s eyes spent an extended period of time examining Thancred’s thighs, and he found himself squirming a bit under the scrutiny. 

This must have been the right thing to do - G’raha’s lips curled into a positively wicked smirk, pink ears flicking with delight. 

“Alright, then. I think I have an idea of something you might find enjoyable. I don’t want to go too far beyond the pale, so I think something more old-fashioned might be a nice experience. Tell me, Thancred: when was the last time someone spanked you for bad behavior?”

“...Not since I was a child. You cannot be serious, Raha.” 

“Oh, but I am. Unless you would you prefer something else?”

It sounded utterly humiliating, the idea of bending over and having the smaller man smack him like an errant child. 

And yet… 

Amidst the knee-jerk embarrassment, there was a warmth in his gut that gave him pause. Were he a Miqo’te, he imagined his ears might have perked with curiosity and given away his true sentiments in a heartbeat. 

He had already taken too long to answer, and judging from the way crimson eyes narrowed as his smile widened, it seemed G’raha already knew the answer. 

“I’ll defer to your judgment. I don’t think you would suggest something I would overtly dislike.” 

“Not at all. Though before we begin, we must establish a very firm rule - if you do not like where it is going or wish to slow things down, you _must_ tell me. You are ultimately the one that determines the pace of it; if you dislike anything, we stop immediately. The point is not to cause undue pain.” 

It was far more generosity than Thancred had anticipated. He had not thought about what he might do if things went too far - only that he wanted someone to make him crack and somehow know what to do with the pieces left. 

Continuing, G’raha added, “Usually, one chooses a word that will not be used unthinkingly. For more extreme scenarios, for example, you might say _ stop _but not truly mean it - so it must be something that is unequivocally understood to mean you wish to stop. If you use that, I will take that as a sign that we need to step back and reevaluate. Is there any word that comes to mind that might work for this purpose?” 

“...Anyder.” 

Thancred was just as surprised as G’raha with the swiftness at which he blurted out the word, without thinking. “I couldn’t tell you what it means, but it seems to have been something left behind from when… _He _was taking over. It means nothing to me, and certainly not a word I would use in casual conversation.” 

“Very well. Also, do not be afraid to answer honestly if something is too much - my goal-”

“-is not to cause undue pain, yes. You’ve said this.” 

“You’re a masochistic one, Thancred. I admit it serves my own alignments quite nicely, though my job is to ensure it is used for pleasure, not sabotage.” 

G’raha ran a hand along the curve of Thancred’s face… though perhaps in a promise of what was to come, he crooked his fingers just slightly, claws scraping pleasantly along Thancred’s skin. Thancred’s eyes fluttered with bliss, to which G’raha let out the barest hint of laugher.

“You react so beautifully... I can’t wait to see what others I can coax from you.”

* * *

Thancred sat…. And then sat…. And then sat…

G’raha was painstakingly methodical. He moved as though he were a man with all the time in the world. He slid off his rings from his fingers, wiggling them each time a ring was removed before placing them carefully on the nightstand next to the bed. He then marched off to the small kitchen in the other room, filling two glasses with water before placing those, too, on the nightstand. 

The longer G’raha took to get ready, the more Thancred felt a delicious mixture of anticipation and nervousness building. He had long since removed his trousers, feigning nonchalance as his bare arse was exposed to the air for all to see - which was surprising, since he usually _was_ rather nonchalant about wandering about, naked as his name day. That he should feel any level of shyness was utterly foreign to him. 

Glancing over his shoulder, G’raha asked with saccharine sweetness, “Whatever is the matter, Thancred? You seem rather impatient to start.” 

_ That son of - he’s doing this on purpose. _

G’raha ignored the half-hearted glare Thancred shot his way, choose instead to perch himself along the edge of the bed. Patting his legs, that was Thancred’s cue to lay across them, belly flush against G’raha’s thighs. Thancred adjusted himself until he felt reasonably comfortable… though he didn’t think he could truly acclimate himself to having his backside focused as the center of anyone’s attention. 

“Look at you,” G’raha cooed, trailing his fingers along the curve of Thancred’s spine. Despite his fond tone, Thancred could detect lust smoldering just below the surface. It was as addicting and heady as any drink - it had been quite some time since he'd fooled around with another man. He wondered, perhaps belatedly, if his abstinence was the reason why the mere sound of his voice could have such a sway on him. 

No... even as he tried to tell himself that, Thancred knew it was a lie. G'raha might have had a mild-mannered demeanor, but mischief and something richer, something darker, had always seemed to simmer beneath the surface of that jester's smile. This had nothing to do with abstinence, but attraction. 

Curious fingers grew greedy, as they trailed down Thancred’s side and rounded to cup his buttock before giving it a curious squeeze. Thancred’s reaction was instant - torn between the proper reaction of pulling away, and a baser desire to seek more contact, he shifted on G’raha’s lap like some poor conflicted worm, unsure of what it wanted. 

His instinctive reaction earned him a light warning swat. Thancred let out a small gasp of surprise - it hadn’t hurt, exactly, but it had certainly caught him off guard. 

“Behave yourself... though, of course, I can understand if you cannot. Do you give yourself so easily to anyone that asks? I’ve barely touched you, and already you writhe like a needy whore.” 

Thancred barely had time to process the insult before he felt a feather-light caress through silvery hair, gentle as a kiss in contrast with uncharacteristically sharp words. It all but whispered the Miqo'te's intentions into his ear. 

_ It is all pretense, my friend. Play along. You will not fall to where I cannot find you. _

“I’ve never been good at following rules, it would seem.”

“Then it seems you’re in need of some discipline. Here’s what we’re going to do: I shall give you ten swats. You are to endure them, without release. You will count them, and once that is completed, you shall apologize.”

“I don’t-”

“Oh my. You seem to have taken that as a _request._ Perhaps this’ll be clearer to you: you _will_ count every smack. Once you have done so to my satisfaction, you will then apologize until you have met my expectations.”

“Y-yes, sir.” 

He could feel the way G’raha stiffened with surprise, and indeed, he felt himself a bit shocked at how easily the word slipped out. For a wild moment, Thancred wondered if he’d somehow been Tempered - why had he said that, what was he so…?

G’raha let out a pleased hum, rewarding Thancred with a possessive squeeze on the buttocks. That squeeze shifted to something more methodical, as he steadily massaged the muscle. Though it was clear there was a practical reason, Thancred couldn’t help but bury his head in his arms, trying to stifle any embarrassing sounds from escaping. The man’s hands were utterly divine as they did their work. After what felt like hours, G’raha’s hands stopped their blessed ministrations. 

“Look at that… just as pretty as a peach. Are you ready?” 

Not trusting his mouth, Thancred simply nodded.

“What is the word you are to use if you want me to stop?”

“Anyder.” 

“What a good boy you are. Now then…” 

Without further preamble, Thancred felt a sharp slap against his ass. He let out another gasp, this one tinged with the first hint of sweet pain. He pressed his forehead against his forearms and managed to remember at the last second that he was supposed to be counting. 

“One.” 

Making a small sound of satisfaction, G’raha grazed the tip of his claws along the tender flesh. It stung in a way that Thancred couldn't quite interpret, mind confused as to whether the sharp points brushing against stinging flesh felt painful or pleasurable. He found himself arching into the touch - to which the Miqo’te let out a wicked little laugh. 

Just when Thancred was wondering when he was going to hit him again, he felt another sharp smack on the ass - infinitesimally harder this time. He fought back the mad urge to laugh, instead counting off the second number.   
  
“Two.” 

With each impact, Thancred found himself drifting further, held aloft between the space between the sharp sparks of pain and flood of warmth that followed. He anticipated yet dreaded each one, the impact reverberating through his entire being like a bell. As the skin grew more tender, the pain of each smack lingered rather than fading into warmth - rather than an ebb and flow of pain, it was rather like adding fresh layers of torment on top of one another. There was no reprieve - only anticipating how much worse the agony might become. 

Yet even as he told himself this - _it hurts, it hurts -_ Thancred felt himself growing hard against G'raha's leg. Hydaelyn above, he was getting _off_ on this! Every nerve in his body begged for relief, to take himself in hand or rut against the muscular thighs beneath him.... but Thancred knew without having to ask that G'raha would disapprove. 

The Hyur retained enough of his senses to continue counting as G’raha had demanded, but by the eighth, Thancred found himself biting his lips as his voice trembled on every syllable. He had endured far more painful battles, he knew… yet Thancred could not recall them, for this seemed to test him in a way few other things had. 

Thancred felt G’raha card a hand through his hair - the softness of the touch was such a stark contrast that he felt a sob rip from his throat, leaning into it as though it were the hand of Hydaelyn herself. 

“Are you alright?” G’raha asked kindly, brushing sweat-drenched bangs from Thancred’s eyes. “Would you like to continue?” 

_ No. No, I want it to stop. But- _

“Can… can we just stop with the hitting bit, please?”

“Of course. Would you still like to apologize?”

“_Please_.”

G’raha gave his head an affectionate pat, and asked, “Is this position okay for you, or would you prefer something more in the vein of supplication?” 

Thancred considered how gratifying it would feel to be on his knees, begging forgiveness. But with his soul as flayed and raw as it was, he didn’t feel he could deal with that just yet. 

“This will do. I don’t think I can deal with that.” 

“Understandable. Now… if you would.” 

Thancred took a deep breath. In the scattered fragments of his mind, he tried to pluck every thing that he could think of that he felt might reason for an apology.

“I’m sorry, first of all, that I was late and did not think to give you any warning. It was selfish of me to not consider how you might worry. I’m sorry for making myself vulnerable and giving Lahabrea an opening. Countless lives were endangered as a result; I shouldn’t have been so reckless. I’m sorry for all those Tempered beings that we’ve had to put down, knowing as we do how they cannot help but act in their gods’ stead.”

Thancred stopped, unsure of where to even continue. In the cracks that G'raha's hand had dealt, it felt as though miasma had finally, blessedly, began to seep out of him. Imbued with so much poison, he desperately wished to let it out, purify himself. The enormity of his sins threatened to bury him alive. Gods above, he had so much to atone for, so much that - 

“Shhh… that’s enough. You have done splendidly, my friend.” 

Despite his reassuring words, Thancred only felt himself closer on the precipice of tears, desperately needing an outlet for the maelstrom that whirled within him. Elation, grief… He couldn't begin to understand them all. It were as though he had swirled a cup of tea gone stale, all the dregs that had settled on the bottom now twirling within the amber liquid. He needed to dump the remainder, content to examine the tea leaves that remained at a later date.

“Thancred, I need to know what’s on your mind. What is it you need of me?” 

Thancred took G’raha’s hand, threading it through his hair once more. He turned over, curling into a fetal ball, resting his head against the reassuring heat of G’raha’s chest. Breathing in, he took in the familiar scent unique to G’raha, sweet cigar smoke courtesy of the older company he often kept, and lavender-infused into the soap he used for his clothing. 

Thancred clung to that scent, let it ground him and let him drift back to earth. 

“Stay here, please. I just need a moment to process... everything.”

“Is that…?” 

Thancred considered it. An honest question deserved an honest answer. He felt as though he were held together by gossamer strands rather than black tar. In the space between, wind whistled through places once mired in rot. He was likely to shatter at any moment.... but it were as though a weight he'd carried on his soul for months had, _finally_, begun to shed from it. 

“Tis a good thing, yes. I should like to try it again another day - and perhaps make it to ten the next time.”

“Of course. Now then… hush and let me take care of you. You did beautifully, Thancred. So brave, so strong-willed. You…”

Awash in the words of G’rahas’ praises, Thancred felt himself cradled into a deep, blessed slumber. 

**Author's Note:**

> This may look familiar - it was originally intended as a multichapter fic for said Kinktober fills ("Eros in Furs"), but I decided to change that to each respective fill being its own work. I have yet to find anyone that truly enjoys mixed-fandom works; it felt more fair to give readers precisely the fandom/ship they want. 
> 
> G'raha/Thancred is admittedly a rather rare ship, but I love the potential dynamic between them. ♥


End file.
